Dividing and Conquering
by PixarKatze
Summary: Before he was a world-famous Piston Cup racer, the car we know as Lightning McQueen lived a very ordinary if not boring life. But everything changes one day when a family member Lightning didn't know existed shows up at his front door. From there, his life is about to change forever. But the journey forward will be filled with divisions and sacrifices. Rated T for OC death.
1. To Sum It Up

**Hi everyone! Here is Chapter 1 of my Cars prequel. It is narrated by Lightning McQueen and begins just over a year before the first Cars movie.**

 **Enjoy! :)**

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The 180-something days of tests, headaches, essays, research, more headaches, and the occasional party are over. It's a hot, muggy morning in early June; the last day of school, which just happens to fall the day before my twentieth birthday. I completed my last class today, and I'm just finishing packing up my dorm room to move in back home with my uncle, Scott, for the summer. I'm not expecting anything spectacular to happen, though, because no such thing has occurred to me in years. With my luck, this summer will be a total bust. Just like the past nineteen have. They don't call this city Naptown for nothing.

Everything's packed. I tape the final box shut and double-check around the room for any last items. Nothing left. I tie the boxes onto my roof with a piece of rope and shut the door behind me as I leave. Around me, dozens of other students are hurrying around packing and hauling luggage around or saying goodbye to friends. But I don't have anyone to say goodbye to. And I'm okay with that. I weave unnoticed through the crowd and drive away from the campus, not planning to return for another three months.

I begin the fifteen-minute drive north toward downtown Indianapolis, where Scott lives and has lived for nearly fifteen years. It's brutally hot today, but well after morning rush hour. I'm home approximately twelve minutes later. I don't expect my dad to be here to greet me, since he travels for work. I don't see him much, except for holidays. But it's fine. I've learned to live with it. He only lives half an hour from Scott's, but he has to keep his job to pay for my school. So does Scott. It doesn't come cheap, after all. Even though it's only a stone's throw from home. I wish for once that Dad could stay for my birthday. He's missed nearly all of them. But nonetheless, I absolutely do not want this birthday to pass unremembered. Twenty is a huge deal. I'm going to do something fun, no matter what Scott says.

Anyway, I enter the high-rise apartment building, pass through the empty lobby, and take the elevator up to mine and Scott's apartment on the twenty-fourth floor. After letting myself in, I drop off my boxes in my bedroom and collapse on the living room couch, hot and tired.

"Hey. Didn't expect you back so early," Scott says as he drives in from the kitchen.

I shrug. "What am I supposed to wait for?" I say.

"I don't know. But I got some bad news, I'm afraid. Your dad has a big conference in Chicago this weekend. Gonna miss the big day."

I shrug. I've taught myself not to be disappointed by this frequent piece of news. "Big deal. Then we'll just do something."

Scott sighs. "I'm sorry, Lightning. I'm afraid I have work, too."

I stand bolt upright, my eyes wide. He might as well have hit me with an electric jolt. Not Scott too! "What?"

"I'm sorry, kid. I really am. But it's almost that time of year; parents want to settle in before the new school year begins. I've got two open houses this weekend and like, a dozen showings both today and tomorrow. So I hate to break it to you, but you're on your own this time."

 _No. I'm on my own_ _again_ _,_ I think angrily, rolling my eyes. "Greeeat," I say sarcastically as I slouch down again. _Thanks for thinking of me, Scott. I feel so loved right now._

Note to self: think up an excuse to miss his next birthday.

"So, I suggest you come up with some ideas," Scott continues. "Are there any movies you want to see? I can get a ticket for you if you want."

"Nope," I say, not looking at him.

"All right. Any museums?"

"Negatory."

"Anything at all?"

"Not around here."

Scott gives me an annoyed look. I admit I'm not the easiest person to please, but the only thing I want is to get out of here, and he can't get that for me. Or rather, being a man of habit, he won't. "Fine. It's your birthday. Don't blame me if it's another letdown. But look on the bright side. Next year you'll be old enough to drink."

True. I eagerly look forward to it.

He looks up at the clock above the TV. "Well, I gotta go. I'll try to be back for dinner. Help yourself to leftovers if I'm not back, or go out if you want. Just be back by midnight."

"Whatever you say," I say tiredly as he shuts the front door and leaves. I'm alone now, and completely undecided on what I want to do for the big day tomorrow. I've already seen every museum, festival, and anything else touristy at least a dozen times. I wish I'd known Dad was going to Chicago because I would've loved to go with him, even though I don't know a whole lot about the city.

I find myself examining the room in disgust, again being reminded of the monotony of my life. The living room is far from extravagant, with bland beige walls and furniture and minimal decorations and pictures. Essentially, it looks like a million other living rooms in a million other apartments. The entire place is like that, with the exception of my room—which I begged Scott to let me paint blue, my second-favorite color after red, when we first moved in. Yes, Scott's that frugal. Our apartment always looks staged for a show, with maybe my room being the exception.

Then I find myself thinking about the day I was accepted to ISU (Indiana State University), but nowhere else.

That acceptance letter was the last one I received. When I saw the return address, I hoped I'd been rejected.

But I wasn't.

"No, no, no, no, no!" I exclaimed. "Are you freaking kidding me?"

Scott came running into the living room, looking like he was going to pass out. "What is it?"

I showed him the letter. "ISU accepted me!"

To my annoyance, he sighed in relief. "Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid no one would. Congratulations, kid," he said as he hugged me.

I quickly pulled away. "No! Do you know what this means? I'm going to be stuck here for the next four years! Ugh! This is so unfair!" I said with an exasperated groan, and I trudged into my room to sulk and squander in self-pity. Apparently, the universe wanted to keep me in Naptown for the rest of my life. Or at least for the foreseeable future.

Scott came to check on me a few minutes later. "Lightning, stop being so dramatic. You're not the only person stuck going to college in their hometown. Who knows? Maybe you'll make some friends and you'll go on a cross-country trip or something," he said, and to which I replied with a stifled groan. With my luck, I'd still be the socially awkward kid I've always been. Either that or I'd end up with the wrong crowd, and who knows what'd happen then.

But that was two years ago. No real friends, no cross-country trip. Now I've decide to busy myself by heading to the library or the video store to borrow some new books or a new video game or movie. Then maybe stop by the grocery store and buy a cake. I think tomorrow I'll run some laps at Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Hopefully, that'll cheer me up. It usually does. It costs twenty-five dollars per trip, so they're few and far between. I used to spend virtually all my allowance on these visits, although sometimes Scott offered to pay for them. I usually go on weekends, when the track is technically closed, but since I'm one of the place's most frequent visitors, the people who work there let me practice as long as there are no events being prepared or hosted.

My eyes fall on a framed picture on my desk. Me, Dad, and Scott at my high school graduation a little over two years ago. They're all the family I have. I don't have any siblings. My mom left when I was a year old, and I haven't seen her since. So I don't remember her, but I do have an old picture of her that's torn on one side and missing another half, which I assume has my dad's face on it. But I've never been able to find it. I assume my mom kept it because Dad kept his hidden for many years from me until he gave it to me as a present on my seventh birthday. I hope I'll get to meet her one day. If I ever visit Scotland, where's she from, I will try to find her.

But it's fine. I get along quite well with both Dad and Scott, although I don't have much in common with either of them. Like I have a choice. I have virtually the same face as them, albeit younger, but the similarities end there. I'm technically a race car—the only one in the family. Always have been. I was born with a racing engine, quite unexpectedly. It worried my family at first, but to me, it's something of a blessing. And it's how I got my nickname, Lightning. But my real name is Monty, short for Montgomery, neither of which I like. I don't know why my parents named me that because it never really fit me. It's too British, although I am technically half-British. I didn't mind it so much when I was little, but in recent years, I feel like I've outgrown it, which is why I usually go by my nickname. Scott gave it to me the first time he saw me run at top speed at the racetrack treadmill. I even got in the habit of signing school papers with Lightning, which annoyed my teachers because they didn't like me having such an abnormal name. But I didn't care. I hate my given name, and that's that.

I frown at the picture on my desk. My hopes of becoming a racer seemed so much easier when I was seventeen. I've been studying and practicing for the big leagues for years. In fact, since my seventh birthday, when Dad and Scott took me to the track here for the first time; we'd just moved here from Dallas then. That's where they are from. But even before that, I regularly watched Piston Cup races on TV. And for many a year, Scott's allowed me to practice at the track. Now, I'm finally old enough to race in the actual Piston Cup league.

Sadly, though, Dad and Scott are both reluctant to let me take such a dangerous job and they don't really want me to go. At least not now, since I'm still in university. I don't blame them in that sense. I think I'm slowly on my way there, studying sports sciences. But it isn't at all what I expected in the beginning. You basically study how fitness benefits cars of various backgrounds and abilities, and the appropriate therapies, physiology, and psychology. But coaching other people isn't really my forte. I'd rather be coached myself. I'm not sure it's going to work out in the long run, so I'm also majoring in business marketing, too. Talk about boring. But they insisted. Business skills should be in my DNA. But in my family, it's not father-like-son/uncle-like-nephew. It's unbelievably dull to me. Useful, I suppose, but dull. They wanted me to have a backup plan, so I went for it anyway.

However, by the second semester of my first year, I was failing business school quite badly so, without telling them, I signed up for several racing classes. When I finally told them about it a few days later, they gave me quite an earful for it, even though I offered to pay for all the classes in full. I didn't realize until afterward that with two majors, I didn't have time for a job to earn the money, which was more than in my college savings. But I stubbornly refused to drop out. So for two years, I divided my time between business school—where I had to drop all but two of my classes because I simply couldn't keep up—and sports sciences, where I've done okay. But I excelled in racing classes. My instructors told me repetitively that I have a real aptitude for racing and that I should consider signing up for big leagues. I'd love to more than anything. And in an act of rebellion, I decided to further my training and sign up for an official racing academy in Jacksonville, Florida. I also registered for one in Sonoma, California, but I'm hoping for Florida since it's closer. Scott hasn't paid for my junior year tuition yet, so I have just enough money for either school. I haven't told him or my dad my "secret" plan, and neither of them have suspected a thing. Classes begin right after Independence Day, but that's nearly a month from now. So for the time being, I'm stuck here. The Piston Cup racing season always begins in mid-February, so if I succeed, I can participate in the next season. I've finished all the racing courses at my school but technically, I still have two years of school left. I have no intention of finishing.

Don't get me wrong, I love college life, but sometimes it's kind of lonely because I have a hard time making friends. The only true friend I had growing up, Kate McKinley, moved back to Portland, Oregon, about two years ago. We kept in touch for a few months until we both started college. Then for reasons unknown to me, I stopped hearing from her. I suspect she got really busy and likely found a boyfriend. We enjoyed the eleven years we had together, but I highly doubt I'll ever see her again. I think deep down, it really broke my heart, because I haven't sought a real relationship since. There are plenty of nice girls at college, and I've dated a few, but none of them want to date a guy who through no fault of his own prefers spending his little down time at a racetrack over a date. I think my girl's out there; I just haven't found her yet.

Now I've decided to head out and stop by the library or video store, then grab some lunch since I have all day to kill. I lock up and take the elevator back downstairs. My ears used to pop every time I came up or down, but it eventually stopped and I don't hear anything anymore.

 _It's going to be a long summer,_ I think as I approach the main floor. I have literally nothing productive to do. Maybe I should get a job. Make myself useful. Earn enough money to go on a short trip somewhere. Maybe a week in Chicago or something. I'm not picky.

Once I land on the main floor, I turn the corner into the lobby. But as I do, I see something I never imagined I would see in a million years and will never forget as long as I live. What I see—or should I say who—sends a wave of panic through me. It's a car.

A car that looks exactly like me.

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 **Cliffhanger! So, I hope you like this so far. :) Things will start to kick off in the next chapter, but I wanted to provide some backdrop to my version of Lightning's story.**

 **I know I'm not being descriptive about my OCs, but in all honesty, I don't know what models they should be. I'm no expert on actual cars. If they were humans, it'd be easier, but they're not, so feel free to imagine them however you want. :)**

 **Some fun facts:**

 **Naptown is an actual nickname for Indianapolis. I actually went there once when I was little, but sadly, I don't remember much about that trip.**

 **As for Lightning's real name, it comes from a book called _Struck By Lightning_. Yes, I was shocked, too! XD ****I will be covering and expanding the events of that book in future chapters.** **But I decided to fudge the origin of "Lightning" a little because I can't get used to calling him Monty. It's like he's a different person, you know? It also sounds kind of British to me, which is one reason he doesn't like it!  
**

 **Hope you stick around for the next chapter. :) Please review.**


	2. A Family Secret Uncovered

**Hi everyone! I know it's been a long wait, but here's Chapter 2. Hope you like it. :) And thank you for the favourites, follows and views. You're awesome! So, who is this mysterious lookalike? Read on and find out! :)**

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Chapter 2:

A Family Secret Uncovered

A scream starts to make its way out of my throat. I immediately bite down on my tongue and duck back into the corner behind the elevator before it reveals me.

 _What in the name of the Manufacturer is that?!_ I think, my eyes wide in panic. _No. Calm down. I don't think he saw me._

My instincts tell me to return upstairs or alert security. But I shouldn't act so impulsively. I shut my eyes, slow my breathing. Maybe I'm imagining the whole thing. I look out again, and the guy's still there. I get my first good look him. He's parked at the seating area and reading a newspaper. _Whoa. What's he doing here?_ I wonder, and I continue to survey him. He has the same face as me, although his model is more like my dad's. He looks about the same age as me, too, maybe a year or two older.

But what is he doing here? My first suspicion is that he's looking for me. Or he could be just a tourist. More than anything, I want to know. Of course, driving up to him and saying hello would be very idiotic on my part—I know better than that. He could be an enemy spy for all I know.

Okay, I'm probably overreacting. Chances are it's just a coincidence my lookalike looks like me. I'm sure it happens to everyone at some point. But I don't understand why he's just sitting there and waiting. For what? For who? I know one thing for sure. He's not a resident. I know pretty much everyone who lives in this building. Or at least bumped into them at some point. And I almost always know when someone moves in or out when the list of residents changes. It's also not normal for someone to just sit in the lobby and wait. I'm getting a very bad feeling.

 _Maybe I do have an impostor,_ I think. But I need to know for sure. So, holding my breath, I casually take another seat across from him and pretend not to notice him. _Just be cool. Don't make eye contact,_ I order myself as my eyes wander around the room. Then he glances up at me and smiles and I automatically look down. After a few seconds, I look back up, but he ignores me. My lungs are starting to hurt because I haven't breathed since I sat down. I try to read his paper, but although the text is upside-down, I can still read it. But I can't help glancing up at him about every three seconds. He looks so much like me! Same face, same dark blue eyes with hints of green, even a similar shade of red as his main color. We could be twins, and I simply cannot stop looking at him. And I'm pretty sure he's getting suspicious about that. _Stop. Looking. Stop it!_

"Are you waiting for something?" the stranger asks a minute later in a thick Scottish accent.

I nearly jump out of my chair. He's definitely not from around here. _Whoa! What's happening? He's Scottish. Why is he Scottish?_ I think. Maybe he's faking it to impress me. I don't know. It sounds authentic enough, though. "Uh, heh, no…" I say anxiously, my engine thumping hard. I feel cornered, like I'm being interrogated.

"Then something's troubling you," he says in a friendly tone.

I clench my teeth, choosing my words carefully. "No, it's just…" I find myself trailing off. "You're from Scotland, aren't you?" I blurt out. "I mean, your accent." _Shut up, Lightning! Just shut up!_

He nods. "Yes. Edinburgh."

 _Wow! What are the odds?_ I can't help smiling a bit and I look up at the ceiling. For some stupid reason, I don't feel scared of him anymore. According to my dad, my mom is from there. Maybe this guy even knows her. But I have to play it cool. "You're lucky. I'd like to go there, but… haven't gotten around to it. Haven't even gotten around to leaving the state," I say with a laugh.

"Never?"

"Well, not since I moved here like, thirteen years ago. Oh, what I'd give to get _out_ of here," I say in an exaggerated tone.

 _What are you doing? Whatever you're doing, stop it. Right now._

"I'd _die_ to go to Scotland. But I can't. I got no money. Besides, I don't even know much about the place." I smile at him. "Well, I'll just be on my way. Have a nice day." And I start over to the front door, half-expecting him to follow me. I want to see what he'll do.

"Wait! Don't go!"

I smile to myself, then turn around, slightly alarmed, but I try to look calm. "Why?"

The stranger hesitates. "Well, since you sound so desperate, I could take you to Scotland…. Or London if you want. It's actually easier."

My eyes wide, I turn back. _Don't even think about it._ "You're serious?" I ask skeptically.

"Yes."

"And why would you do that? I don't even know you."

"Because you seem like a nice lad who could use an adventure," he says with a smile.

I narrow my eyes slightly. Why is this guy tempting me? This is stupid. I should know better than to fall for it. But I'm so tempted by his offer. I really am. But it's so risky. Too risky. I've known this guy for all of ninety seconds. But I want to go somewhere new so badly. And I've always wanted to go to Scotland and especially London. And I want to get to get better acquainted with this guy. I feel like we've met before, although I know we haven't.

 _No. Don't do it. Don't even think about it! You'll be so sorry!_ I tell myself. _You'll get in so much trouble! If Dad and Scott find out, they'll never forgive you or trust you again._ That's probably true. But this is my only chance to see someplace new, and I'm willing to go through whatever this guy plans to do to me to go. Besides, I owe myself a memorable birthday present.

I don't realize I've been pacing the lobby until I slam my tire on the floor. "Okay! I'll go!" I blurt out, and I can't help cringing to myself.

"All right! You won't be disappointed, I promise," the stranger says, driving up to me. "Name's Lawrence MacIver, by the way. What's yours?"

I blink. Lawrence MacIver? Have I heard that before? It sounds familiar, but it doesn't at the same time. My brain is spinning as it tries to register the name.

"Um," I say quietly. I don't know why I'm hesitating, but it's not because I hate my name. My instincts are telling me to stop talking to this guy. Should I tell him my name? Maybe he already knows it. The idea scares me, but I smile at him anyway. My throat sudden feels tight. "… Lightning. My name's Lightning," I get out.

"Nice to meet you, Lightning," he says with a bright smile. I think he knows I'm lying.

"Y-You, too," I stutter. "Um… I'll just… go get my stuff and… be right back." I smile again and nervously back up toward the elevator, accidentally bumping into the wall as the doors open. "Wall," I say awkwardly and he smiles as I move inside and punch the button for the twenty-fourth floor.

As soon as I start ascending, I hit the back wall in disbelief and anger. _What did you just do, you idiot? This guy could be a total fraud,_ I scold myself. But his name. Lawrence MacIver. I've heard it before. But where? I think hard and repeat it out loud several times, but I still can't put my tire on it. Obviously, it wasn't recently, because otherwise I would've recognized him. I've never seen before in my life.

Wait. MacIver. Emily MacIver. That's my mother's name. I feel my engine skip a beat. "No. No. That's impossible." This Lawrence cannot be… related to me. I suddenly start to feel a little dizzy as I arrive on my floor and scramble to the door. My left tire is shaking and uncooperative as I unlock the door. Once I'm inside, I make sure to double-lock it just in case this Lawrence decides to pursue me.

"Something screwy's going on here," I say to myself. If any of my speculations prove to be true, I don't want to believe it. The thought of him being related to me makes my tank churn, but I refuse to believe it until I have proof.

That's it. I need evidence. What do Dad or Scott know about this? It's entirely possible they planned this encounter. But I didn't have any warning, so it's time to do some digging. I click my tongue. Where to start looking? Scott's office seems like a good start. I head in there and even though I know I'm not supposed to, begin to dig through his file cabinet. Of course, between him and Dad, the latter's more likely to have the answers I'm looking for, but I don't have time to drive to his apartment and back. I have to hope I'll find something here.

Then an old file reveals itself in the very back of the bottom drawer, labeled _Old Letters._ I pull it out of the cabinet and lay it carefully on the desk. Most of them date from the 1970s and 80s, well before my time, written to Scott from people I don't know. I'm careful to keep them in order to avoid his suspicion.

But then the last one. It's from… Emily MacIver? My mother? My engine starts pounding as I carefully open it and lay it on the desk. This is what it reads:

 _Dear Scott,_

 _I just wanted to let you know we arrived safely in Edinburgh. I know Lawrence will be much happier here. I'm sorry it had to come to this, but Nick and I agreed that it was for the best. But we'll be in touch, I'm sure._

 _I'm writing you this letter because I want you to promise to take care of Monty for me. I love him very much, and I'm going to miss him every single day. I want to see him grow up, so please remind Nick to send me photographs of him once in a while. Let him know that I love him from the bottom of my heart and I hope I'll see him again one day. But please do not tell him about Lawrence. He won't remember him, and that's probably for the best. I'm sure you and Nick will tell him when the time is right._

 _Take care,_

 _Emily_

I'm gasping now as I reread the last three sentences. Lawrence is my _brother_?! How could I not know about this?! "No. No, no, no, no, no! Oh, God, no!" I fall back against the wall behind me, gasping. My head starts spinning and my tank is churning. I shut my eyes because the room feels like it's swaying, and I wonder if I might pass out.

How could this happen? _Is_ this happening? I'm not entirely sure, because it suddenly doesn't feel real. It doesn't make sense. How could my dad and Scott never tell me about Lawrence? Here I am, about to turn twenty years old, and I only just met him five minutes ago. I resist the urge to call up Scott at his office and scream every swear word I know at him. I could do the same to my dad, but he's likely on his plane by now. _Maybe that's why Dad left,_ I think. _Maybe he_ _knew_ _Lawrence was coming._ But on second thought, that doesn't seem likely. Maybe Lawrence found out about me only recently and came out here to find me. However, he might've known about me his whole life. Or maybe Mom sent him to find me…. The possibilities are endless. But surely, Dad and Scott wouldn't leave me alone here when they knew a stranger who looked exactly like me was due to show up at my front door and nearly give me an engine attack!

At that moment, I hear the doorbell ring and I nearly jump out of my frame. I'm betting it's Lawrence, but I'm not sure I want to face him. "Go away! There's nobody home!" I yell, only realizing a second later that—

"You know that trick never works, right?" It's Lawrence, who is probably the only person who won't have to face my growing wrath. I had a feeling he'd follow me. And he doesn't sound angry. If anything, he seems amused. With a sigh, I snatch up the letter and drive out to the living room to answer the door. "What?" I suddenly feel a little dizzy when I look at him.

"Are you all right, laddie?" he asks looking concerned. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I raise an eyerim at him. That's a stupid question, but I decide not to tell him that. "No. I am not all right," I say as he drives in and I shut the door behind me. I lean back against it, sinking to the floor in shock. I should be happy, and I want to be happy, but I'm not. This whole thing has just come totally out of the blue.

"Well, I guess you figured it out or else you wouldn't have let me in," Lawrence says as he turns to look at me.

I don't look up from the floor. "Yep," I say absently.

He looks confused. "You didn't know?"

"Nope. But at the same time, it makes so much sense."

"How did you find out?" He's even more confused now.

Without answering, I slide the letter across the floor to him and trudge onto the couch.

Lawrence parks alongside me and stares at it a minute, his eyes wide as hubcaps. "Och, so you didn't know?" he asks, stunned.

"Nope," I say, then I look over at him. "Is it true?"

"Yes. All of it," he says. "I am your brother, Lightning."

I take several deep breaths to calm myself. But I'm far from calm. I feel like I'm going to laugh, cry, faint and throw up all at the same time.

"Are you all right, laddie?" Lawrence asks.

"Are you kidding?" I say, my throat tightening. "I've never been better!" Without hesitating, I throw my tires around him and start laughing. I think there are a few tears running down my face, but I'm too happy to care. I've never felt so happy before. Any and all loneliness I've felt with my broken family is gone in an instant. I'm not alone anymore. "This the best thing that's ever happened to me," I say a minute later. "This is the best day of my life. Thank you."

I'm sure Lawrence is smiling. "I'm glad to hear that," he says as he pats me on the side. "And I'm sorry I frightened you. I didn't mean to. I thought you'd recognize me."

I pull away, smiling so hard my jaws hurt. "Nope. But it's okay. You didn't know." I take a deep breath, still grinning. "Wow. Just… wow. I don't know what to say. I can't believe it. All this time, I thought…. I mean, uh, we haven't really been introduced. I'm Monty, although actually, I like Lightning better." Lawrence gives me a puzzled look. "Race car," I say. "Scott gave it to me. Sorry, I don't really like my name. But don't tell Mom I said that."

Lawrence smiles. "All right. I won't. Then I'm Lawrence. Plain and simple Lawrence."

"Larry?" I ask, and I laugh.

He laughs, too. "No. Lawrence."

"Okay, Plain and Simple Lawrence, how did you find me, anyway?" I ask.

"Well, I accidentally found Dad's address in Mum's stuff. I saw you at an intersection a short while ago and followed you here. I had a feeling it was you because how many cars look like us in the city?"

If he'd said that earlier, that would be very unnerving. In truth, I don't really stand out here. But Dad's address? What was my mom doing with it? This is very unusual, and I make a note to myself to ask Lawrence about it later, since it's not my top priority right now. "Oh. So it wasn't by accident then?"

Lawrence shakes his head. "No. It wasn't."

All of a sudden, I have about a million questions for him. There's so much to catch up on and learn about each other! "Wow! So where have you been all this time? What's Mom like? Did she get married again? Does she know you're here? Does she know I'm here? Where is she? How old are you? Are you—"

"Och, slow down, lad!" Lawrence says, laughing. "One at a time!"

"Sorry. First of all, how old are you?" I ask slower.

"I'll be twenty-three in December."

I feel something inside me jump. "Wait. You're older than me?" I ask, confused.

"Yes. By two and half years."

"Oh. So… I'm the younger kid?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Well, that figures." No wonder I feel like a second-class citizen in my own family.

Lawrence smiles. "Speaking of which, where are Dad and Scott?" he asks eagerly. "I can't wait to meet them."

I totally forgot that he's never met them. Unless…. "Oh. Scott just left for work," I say. "And Dad's in Chicago for some conference. He won't be back until late tomorrow. What about Mom?"

"She's back in Edinburgh," Lawrence says. "She doesn't know I'm here. I wanted to surprise her. And Maureen. I imagine you'd want to come back to Scotland with me to meet them?"

I gasp. So he wasn't joking when he said he could take me! "Are you kidding?" I ask excitedly. "I'd love to go! I've always wanted to go there! Wait. Who's Maureen?"

"My girlfriend. Between you and me, I'm thinking about proposing to her," Lawrence say confidentially.

 _Wow. Whoa. He's already planning on getting married? Isn't he a little young?_ I wonder. Personally, I have no intention of marrying until I'm at least twenty-five or thirty and have a steady career. I made that promise to myself many years ago. Sure, I was ten years old and too young to understand marriage, but it still seems logical now. Assuming Lawrence is telling the truth, my—I mean, _our_ parents—were only about his age when they wed (they'd just graduated college when they tied the knot), and look what happened. I can't bear the thought of going through the same thing, especially with kids. "Oh. Okay. Wow. Is she here?" I ask quickly.

"No," he says. "I wanted to surprise her as well. And we're goin' to need a best man for the wedding."

My eyes widen at the request. _Me?_ I think. _He wants me?_ I can't believe he'd even think of asking me, especially considering we just met. Besides, I know next to nothing about weddings. I've never attended one, and Scottish wedding are probably very different from the ones I've seen in movies, let alone American ceremonies. I feel a little overwhelmed at the thought. "Oh. Okay. When are you having it?"

"Don't know yet. I have to propose to her first."

"Right. Of course," I say. I'm starting to feel giddy again. "Yeah, I'll think about it. So, are we still going?"

"Och, settle down, lad," Lawrence says. "We should discuss this with Dad and Scott first and see if they want to come along."

I can't resist rolling my eyes. If it were up to me, we'd already be on our way to the airport right now. "Yeah, well, Scott's really busy with work right now and I can't reach Dad. Besides, what would I say to them? 'Hey, your long-lost son-slash-nephew is back in town. Would it be okay if he took me to Scotland?' Sounds kind of weird, don't you think? Besides, they don't like traveling, especially Scott. You've probably seen half of Europe already, haven't you?"

Lawrence shrugs. "I suppose you could say that."

"That's what I thought," I say, feeling a twinge of jealousy. "I haven't left Indiana since I was six years old. Never. Not once. I've been stuck here for almost fourteen years. Do you have any idea what it's like to be stuck in the same place for that long?"

"I can't say that I do," Lawrence says slowly. "How come you never go anywhere?"

"Because Dad and Scott are cheap and boring," I tell him. "I mean, if I had the money, I would've left a long time ago. But I don't have a job, so I don't have the money. So, yeah. Most of my birthdays and summers have really sucked." I think again. "Okay, they weren't really bad, but they weren't that memorable, either. And I want to do something really special this year before I go back to school. So can you take me? Please? If you want, you can come back here and get to know Dad. I don't mind staying in Edinburgh for a while. We can stay the whole summer for all I care. I don't have anything better to do."

Lawrence looks reluctant, even uncertain. "I don't know, laddie. I think we should wait until Scott gets back at least. He's the one that lives here, right?"

I roll my eyes again. "Yeah, but who knows when he'll be back. Come on, Lawrence. I want to go to Scotland. I have to meet Mom. Wouldn't you do the same thing if I'd gone to find you and you begged me to take you to meet Dad, although it was likely never to happen?"

Now Lawrence sighs. "I suppose. But first of all, I don't have an extra ticket. Second, I haven't picked a day to leave yet."

"Well, my birthday's tomorrow," I say. "We should go today. That would be, like, _the_ best present ever. Please, Lawrence? _Please?_ " I give him my most charming smile and he sighs in surrender.

"All right! I think there's a flight leaving for London this afternoon. If it's not too full, we can catch it. Now where's your computer? I need to purchase tickets. I'll be nice and give you one as a birthday present."

"London?! Wow! Thank you! Thank you!" I say, jumping up with excitement and hugging him. Then I catch myself and pull away. "Sorry. I mean, um, the computer's in here."

Smiling to myself, I lead him into Scott's office and while he searches online to purchase tickets, I'm practically dancing with excitement as I head down the hall to my room to pack. If my life were a musical and I had a decent singing voice, I'd probably be singing my heart out. To think I'm going to London and Edinburgh _and_ I'm going to meet my mom! I never in a million years could've imagined it. I even bite my tongue until it hurts just to make sure I'm not imagining it. Of course I'm not. This is just my lucky day. I guess I feel uncertain because I can't remember the last time so many good things happened to me in one day.

Except for that stupid letter. It's the only thing that dampens my mood. Why didn't Dad and Scott tell me about Lawrence? They had nineteen years to do it and they couldn't take even five lousy minutes to tell me? Well, it's my time to get even. I'm going to Britain if it kills me.

A few minutes later, I hear a knock on my doorway. "All right. I purchased the tickets. I'll give yours to you on one condition," Lawrence says.

 _Oh, great. Here it comes,_ I think as I grit my teeth. "Okay…."

"You're going to tell Scott your plans," Lawrence tells me. "Since you can't reach Dad right now, you have to at least tell him."

I sigh, but I'm actually relieved. I was afraid he wouldn't take me unless Dad actually tagged along. "Fine."

"Good. It's nothing personal, but the last thing I want is to get in trouble with them. Where is Scott, anyway?"

"At work. If you want to see him, it's only a few blocks away. When do we have to be there? At the airport, I mean?" I ask.

"In about an hour. It leaves at noon, and it's not good to be rushed."

"Okay." With another sigh, I snatch the keys from the table by the door and Lawrence I take the elevator back downstairs. We leave the building and hit Illinois Street, which is directly outside.

Lawrence lets out a tired sigh. "It's bloody hot out here."

"Welcome to Indiana," I say with a smile.

"Och. Do you ever get used to it?"

"No. You just learn to live with it. So, do you remember Scott?" I ask.

"No, not really," he says in an anxious tone. "What's he like?"

I hesitate, trying to come up with an accurate description. "Uh, hard-working, frugal, habitual, an ex-racing fan, real estate enthusiast, Western movies fan, not much."

Lawrence smiles. "I'm sure there's more to him than that."

"No, not really," I say. "He hasn't changed his daily routine in fifteen years. It's kind of sad."

"So, how do think he'll react to this?"

I honestly don't know. Lawrence and I look strikingly similar, and he certainly appeared here out of the blue. "I guess we'll have to see," I say, not wanting to worry him. "I mean, he obviously knows you, so he _probably_ won't freak out. Just let me do the talking, okay? I'm sure it'll be fine."

I'm actually not sure, because I can see this going either way. I just hope Scott will clear things up because he has a _lot_ of explaining to do.

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 **So, that's Chapter 2. Please leave a review.**

 **And a quick fun fact: Guess what Lightning's birthday is? (SPOILER ALERT: It's the day the first Cars movie came out, June 9th!)**


	3. Seeking Answers

**Hi everyone! Here's Chapter 3. This will be the last chapter I will post this year. I want to focus on the later chapters, which need some improvements/rewrites. Also, life is hectic. You get it, I'm sure. In the meantime, I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season and a Happy New Year! :)**

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Chapter 3

Seeking Answers

Ten minutes later, Lawrence and I arrive at Scott's real estate office. I used to come here and do my homework in Scott's office after school until I was old enough to stay home alone with Kate. I haven't been here in several years, but the complex hasn't changed much, if at all. Just like everything else in my life until today. And just as we come in, Scott enters the lobby from the main area and he gasps when he sees us.

"Oh… my… God. Lightning? What are you doing here? Who is this? Wait. Which one of you is Lightning?" he asks frantically.

I resist the urge to laugh. "I am," I say, moving forward. "And I think you know who he is, too," I continue, gesturing to Lawrence. "Lawrence, Scott. Scott, Lawrence. Can we talk?"

Scott sighs heavily, his eyes closed like he's got a headache. "This is rather sudden," he says half to himself, I think. "Well, I was about to go host a housing tour, but I guess I have a few minutes. But let's discuss this in my office." Scott nods to the secretary at the front desk. "They're with me," he says, and he leads us toward his office near the back of the building.

The hallway of cubicles is filled with the sounds of ringing telephones or people talking on them while working on computers. I don't know how they can concentrate under such noise. Another job I don't want: one that involves me answering the phone all day, especially in a cubicle. I cringe as I drive by them. Simply seeing them makes me feel claustrophobic.

Scott's office is at the very end of the hallway, where it's quieter. It's fairly bright, but not anything terribly fancy. A basic desk, bookshelves filled with multi-coloured binders, filing cabinets, and a computer. The carpet is a worn and drab gray. A typical office for a typical job.

But this hasn't always been the case—his job, I mean. Before my parents met and after he finished college, Scott wanted to be a racer. However, there were no racing schools back then, and he never qualified in any tryouts. He also didn't have the right type of engine for it, so the only way he could actually compete was to get an engine transplant, a very costly and painful procedure. He never did it. So he just watched them on TV until his interest faded away. Not for me. I think one reason we moved to Indianapolis is because I have a real aptitude for racing (although they've never said that out loud), and since I can practice at IMS, that Scott wanted to give me a chance. But now that I'm actually old enough to race, I think he's having second thoughts.

Anyway, once we're inside the office, Scott turns his attention to Lawrence. "Ah, you must be Lawrence. Hi. You probably don't remember me. I'm Scott. You've certainly grown since I last saw you."

"Hello, Scott," he says quietly. He seems very uncomfortable by this whole scenario. And I can't blame him. I'm sure I would be in his place.

"Look, I know you just got here, but can I talk to Lightning alone for a few minutes, please? There's coffee at the break station down the hall." Scott gestures to a kitchenette right outside.

Lawrence nods, but he's clearly glad to leave. "All right. Thank you," he says, and he leaves the office.

Now that we're alone, Scott turns to me, looking angrier than I've seen him in a long time. He is not happy. I'm in for it big, but I won't back down. "All right, Lightning, what the hell is going on?" he demands as he parks at his desk and I stand across from him. "What is Lawrence doing here?"

I smile confidently. "Funny story. He mysteriously showed up in the lobby apparently right after you left, which kind of freaked me out, but I talked to him, and he's actually very nice. But he looked unusually like me, so I did some digging and found out he's my _brother!"_ I shout, startling Scott. I return to my previous calm state, at least as calm as it can be under the circumstances. "And he's going to take me to London on the way to Edinburgh to meet Mom."

Scott's eyes go wide as hubcaps. "London? As in London, England?"

I nod. "Mmm-hmm."

"I'm sorry. I'm confused."

I raise an eyerim. "Seriously? What's there not to get? I mean, Lawrence won't give me the ticket until I ask you if we can go. And I'm asking you now: can I go?"

"No," Scott says firmly, and I frown. "Lightning, you can't just go waltzing across the Atlantic with someone you just met."

"You can if they're family," I argue. "Especially if they're family you didn't know you had."

"Lightning, my answer is no. And that's final," he says as he moves from the desk. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some choosy clients to deal with," Scott says as he starts to the door.

I immediately roll back to block the door. "Excuse me, but how come when I'm at school, you don't care what I do or where I go? I'll have you know I stay up till three in the morning sometimes."

"Because you're at school and we can't see you."

"And another thing," I say. "I'm technically an adult as of two years ago, so am I not allowed to make my own decisions like getting to know the other half of my family?"

"I didn't say that."

"So you're saying you don't trust me?"

"I didn't say that, either."

I roll my eyes. "Scott, don't you get it? I'm going to meet Mom! I've been waiting my whole life for this! Lawrence is even paying for my ticket and we're going to stop by London on the way. This might be the only chance I'll ever have before my boring work life begins. Admit it! You're just jealous!"

Scott snickers as he gestures me out of the way. "I am not jealous. If I know you Lightning, you're going to want to stay the whole summer and I'll never be able to bring you home. Have you even told your dad about this?"

"No…." I could probably fill a whole book with things I've never told Dad. "Scott, please can I just go?" I ask him as I follow him out. I look up and see some of his employees glancing up from their computers. But I don't care if I'm making a spectacle of ourselves. "I'm almost twenty years old now. I'm old enough to handle myself out in the real world. Dad did the same thing when he was my age and you guys weren't made of money, either."

"I know that. But that was a long time ago," Scott says, clearly exasperated. "Things were different back then. And you don't even know Lawrence."

I smirk. That is the most pathetic excuse I've ever heard. "Because you never took five minutes to tell me he even existed! Because in this exact situation, you're supposed to! That's what Dad told you to do!"

Scott gives me a very astonished look as several of the office people look up at us quizzically. "You found the letter? From your mom?" he asks quietly.

"Duh! How else do you think I came to believe him?" I say like it's completely obvious. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"That's up to your dad, not me," he says, clearly exasperated, as he continues down the hall. "Now I want you to go home and stay out of trouble."

"I don't get into trouble," I say defensively. "I'm better off than a lot of other guys my age. Do you think I asked for any of this? Like, how come Dad never told me? Did something happen to upset him?"

Scott stops again in the lobby. "Lightning, stop. I don't know, okay? But we did agree to tell you when the time is right."

"And when is that?" I demand.

"It doesn't matter. Look, I have to go. We'll talk later at home." Without another word, he leaves the building and Lawrence pulls up next to me.

"That didn't go well," he says as he sips some coffee.

"No, it didn't," I reply sadly. "Let's go home."

Neither of us says anything for several minutes as we drive back to the apartment. I'm the first to break the ice. "I don't get it. Why won't he just let me go? I mean, I'm nineteen now, almost twenty. I can legally do whatever I want… well, except drink. But you get the point," I say when we stop at a red light a block from home. "Did something happen that would keep Dad from wanting to talk about you?" I ask Lawrence. "You had to be what, four, when they split up?"

"Yeah, but I hardly remember anything. But Mum's told me—and she's never lied to me—that she and Dad decided it was fair that each gets one child."

Fair? How could that be called fair? I stop at the entrance to the apartment building. "What? Come on, Lawrence. Nobody decent would bisect their own kids. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"I know it's daft, but they had their reasons," Lawrence continues as we head inside and I follow. "Dad thought that since you're a race car, you might have better opportunities here, especially if you stayed with Scott. And I turned out not to be very American, despite having an American father and automatic citizenship. They lived in Edinburgh until shortly before you were born. When you came along, they moved to Dallas to be closer to Dad's parents, and the following year, they split up. Dad wanted you to have racing opportunities here, and I wasn't fitting in well in school, so they thought it was best to raise us separately."

Well, that makes a lot of sense. I didn't know much about the circumstances before and after my parents' divorce, except that I was born in Dallas and they split up about a year later. "Oh. Thanks for clearing that up," I say gratefully. By now, we've reached the top floor of the apartment building and I unlock the door before we drive into the living room.

"So now what?" I ask.

"I'm sorry, lad," Lawrence says as we return to the couch. "But Scott said no, so I can't take you. I suppose we could stay here and do something until Dad returns."

I slump into the couch, frowning. "Like what? There's nothing to do here!" I sigh. "I just don't get why he said no. I guess he just wants me to have a sucky birthday again." I hesitate. "I say we just go."

Lawrence raises an eyerim. "I beg your pardon?"

"Just hear me out, okay? I am sick and tired of it here. If I stay any longer, I'm going to go insane. I _need_ to go to London. I _need_ to meet Mom. I've been waiting almost twenty years for this opportunity. I know Dad and Scott will be mad, but I'm willing to take that chance. Please, Lawrence? It doesn't have to be long. Just the weekend would be fine."

Lawrence looks thoughtfully at me. "You're right. You've waited long enough. And the truth is, you know, if we do go, Dad or Scott will have to bring you back."

I nod, smiling. _Finally! He's on my side!_ I think. "Exactly! And when they do, I think Mom and Dad will see each other again. And I've been waiting a long time to see that."

He smiles. "So have I."

"Well, then, let's go! I'll go pack up and meet you at the airport in… forty-five minutes? Is that enough time?"

"Yeah. I have to go back to my hotel to pack anyway. I'll meet you there. At the airport, I mean." He smiles at me. "Well, I'm glad to have met you Mont—er, Lightning."

"Glad to meet you, too," I say, smiling.

Lawrence turns back as he enters the hallway. "Oh, one last thing. You might want to pack some snacks. Airplane food is not appetizing. I learned that the hard way."

I give him a quick smile and shut the door, I fall back against it in shock at what has happened in the last half-hour. This feels so unreal, but I know I'm not dreaming. I also know that Lawrence isn't lying. Scott recognized him immediately, even after having not seen him since he was a toddler. I'm still in complete disbelief, and maybe a little scared, too. But despite that, I'm overjoyed to think that I'm going to have a normal family again. Even if I only see Mom for a short time, I will have a family again, and I've wanted that more than anything for as long as I can remember.

Anyway, having never taken a trip beyond the borders of Indiana in nearly fifteen years, I have no idea what I need to take with me. I clench my teeth, trying to think, until I wander into Scott's office, where he keeps a sizable collection of unused travel books. I dig through all of them until I find two on Scotland. They're pretty old, but I don't have time to be choosy. I open one to check out what I should bring, and I throw my unused American passport, all my money, my rain cover, plug adapters, and several books to read into a suitcase from the closet. After some deliberation, I also decide to take Scott's camera, since I don't have my own. I should feel guilty because I broke his first digital camera on a school field trip back in sixth grade, and he hasn't trusted me with one since. But I'm in something of a rebellious mood, so I pack it anyway.

And as weird as it sounds, I also have a British passport, since I'm a naturalized citizen by descent. I've never identified as a Brit, though. I don't even have a good British accent. Then again, any foreign accent sounds weird with my voice. But Dad insisted I keep it should I ever decide to study abroad in Europe or something. I scoff. I guess he forgot about it or else I would've left ages ago. But I throw it into my suitcase, too, just in case.

By the time I've finished packing, I still have ten minutes to spare. I drive into the kitchen and make myself some decaf. I'm hoping it might relax me, so I take tiny sips of it while I try to calm the growing sick feeling in my tank, also while trying to figure out why I never knew about this. Dad can't have possibly forgotten about Lawrence. He never likes to talk about my mom, which suddenly makes sense because every time I ask him about her, he always seems to be evading something. I still don't know very much about her to be honest, and I have to press him every year on my birthday to tell me one more thing about her, which he always does eventually. I should've suspected he was hiding something more, but I never did. At least nothing so big.

Suddenly, a memory resurfaces in my mind. One I haven't thought about in years. A few days after we moved to Indianapolis, I was helping Dad unpack his stuff in his new apartment when I stumbled across a photograph of him, Scott, Mom, and two kids. I had to be the younger one because I was only a year old when my parents split up. But who was the older one? He looked like me, but I didn't know who he was. I asked Dad, but he just took the picture from me and said it was no one. I argued by saying that it had to be someone, but he refused to tell me. He hid the picture away and I haven't seen it since. And I eventually forgot about it. But now I know who the older kid is in that picture is. Lawrence. My brother. And I had no idea.

By now, the mug's empty, so I drop it into the sink. But I have a plan now. I'm going to go to London and Edinburgh with Lawrence, meet my mom and my possible future sister-in-law. I don't care what happens or what Dad or Scott will do to me. I'm going to get even. Besides, I'm long overdue for a real summer vacation. So I quickly double-check that I have everything I need and without leaving a note like I normally would, leave the apartment for the airport, all the while hoping I'm not about to make the biggest mistake of my life in trusting Lawrence.

Half an hour later, I've arrived at the airport. I've actually been here once before, when our air-conditioner broke a few summers ago. I mostly just watched the travelers driving around and stared at the flight departure board, wishing I could visit even one of the places listed.

Anyway, Lawrence meets up with me at the entrance and getting our boarding passes and making it through security is easier than I expected. In less than half an hour, we've arrived in our gate. Every passing second is more nerve-racking for me, though. If I'm not found by Scott first, I'm bound to get lost somewhere. Or the plane might crash in the ocean. Or Scott will call the authorities to find me. I know him well enough to know he'd overreact that badly. Several times, I consider running back home and locking myself up in my room where nobody can get me. But I don't. This is my chance to leave home and I have to take it. I'll never forgive myself for missing such a great opportunity. I'll probably also be sorry later, but it'll be well worth it.

Before long, we're called to board the plane. Lawrence and I are lucky to get seats together because it's pretty crowded. Probably because summer is the best time to go to London.

I must look pretty nervous because Lawrence's next question catches me by surprise.

"You're not afraid of flying, are you?" he asks me.

I scoff. I've only been on an airplane once before, but I'm not, really. The only thing I'm afraid of is getting in trouble for this. And possibly crashing and/or drowning. "Course not. Just don't make me regret this, Lawrence," I say as the plane's engines roars to life. Already, part of me wants to go back.

"You won't be disappointed, lad. I promise," he replies, smiling.

All I can do is hope he isn't lying. Because there's no turning back now.

We're off to London.

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 **So that's Chapter 3. I hope y'all liked it. :) Please leave a review, as I'm not getting very many, and they really keep me going and make my day.**

 **Here's a quick fun fact:  
**

 **I heard somewhere that Owen Wilson, voice of Lightning McQueen, doesn't like to do accents, hence why I applied that to Lightning. Also, I can't really picture him using one, except for the Southern one he uses in "The Radiator Springs 500 1/2", which I think sounds really funny. :D**

 **Again, I will continue this story next year. School will keep me busy, so don't expect frequent updates. I hope everyone enjoys the holiday season and the New Year! :)**


	4. Life Stories and Arrival in London

**I'm back! I hope everyone enjoyed the holidays, because I did. :) Anywho,with a very busy school semester fast approaching, I wanted to upload one more chapter before then. In that case, it'll probably be a while before I continue.**

 **So, this chapter talks more about Lightning's childhood, which in my head-canon isn't dark or abusive. I don't have a problem with other people writing those kinds of stories, but I personally don't write them. And I know that by the events of the first _Cars_ movie, Lightning doesn't have any friends except Mack. But I don't find it plausible that he never had any friends at any point in his life, and didn't have a crush or two. Also, I don't think he was always a jerk like in the first movie, as you have seen so far. Of course, that'll change, because bad things are going to happen.  
**

 **Please leave a review. They really make my day, and I want to know how I'm dong. But please be nice about it.** **I hope you guys enjoy the chapter. :)**

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Chapter 4

Life Stories/Arrival in London

The flight is expected to take nine hours. Nine freaking hours. When I hear the announcement, I'm about ready to demand the plane turn around, but the last thing I want is to get in trouble with security and possibly arrested. I don't want to spend my birthday in jail. "Oh, no. What was I thinking? This is insane," I say to myself as we take off. "This is literally the stupidest thing I've ever done. Dad and Scott are gonna kill me. I am such a rebel. It's… not like me."

"Relax, Lightning," Lawrence says, and it's only the second time he's addressed me by my name, or rather my nickname. "It'll be worth it. You'll love London and Scotland. I promise. There's so much to see and do. In the meantime, now that we've met and you've solved the 'mystery', I want to hear everything about you."

"Well, there's not much to tell," I admit a bit sadly.

"Come on, now. There's got to be somethin'. What do you like to do?"

"Um… reading, I guess. TV, movies, watching races, running laps at IMS, collecting racing cards and collecting souvenirs from Dad's business trips…?" I say. I honestly don't have many productive hobbies.

"Do you have any special talents?" Lawrence asks.

"I am not a person of many talents."

"All right. What are you good at in school?"

"Um, racing-related subjects, I guess. Math, English, physics, geography."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Not at the moment."

"You ever had one?"

"Not really. Never had a relationship last more than a month."

"Very well then," Lawrence says with a smile. "Tell me about your life."

"Like I said, there's not much to tell," I tell him. "My life has been quite uneventful so far."

"I refuse to believe that. But let's start simple. What's your fondest memory?"

I smile a bit to myself. I have been waiting for so long to tell someone everything about me. I never thought my story was worth telling to anyone. I actually thought I would run out of stuff after about ten minutes, but I think I go on for well over an hour. I'll summarize what I told Lawrence.

Perhaps my favourite life story is the one where Dad and Scott took me to Indianapolis Motor Speedway on my seventh birthday. A week prior to that, Scott decided I was responsible enough to have my speed limiter removed. I always hated it, since it made me feel constricted and uncomfortable in my own frame. I always knew I was a fast runner, but I didn't know how fast until they surprised me by taking me to the track. I was awed by the size of the place and begged Dad and Scott to let me run a few laps. Dad was very reluctant, but Scott convinced him otherwise. He even gave me my own radio so I could talk to him while I ran alongside him. We started slow, of course, at around twenty miles an hour, but I slowly made my way up to fifty. I was having the time of my life, although I knew I could go much faster. But it was too dangerous for a seven-year-old to run that fast on a track. So while taking me on a tour of the rest of the place, Scott took me to one of the trainers and had me run on a treadmill to see what my top speed was. I was shocked to see that I could easily top 200 miles per hour, even though I almost passed out from exhaustion by doing so. Scott said I ran like lightning, which is how I got my nickname. It was then that I decided I wanted to be a professional racer when I grew up.

And since then, I've done everything I can to make that dream a reality. I watch Piston Cup races every Sunday. I've taken notes on the racers and their strategies. I must have five or six notebooks full of them. I've collected several hundred racer cards, some of them very rare and expensive. And I've read every book about racing I can get my tires on. Dad and Scott don't exactly approve of my obsession, but they haven't tried to stop me. I think they were hoping I would grow out of it and seek a more practical occupation. But besides racing, I have no real aptitudes. I'm not a musician, a cook, a scientist, an artist, or an actor. Racing, I think, is my only real talent, although I was always good at English, geography, math, and physics, the latter two of which obviously help in racing, too. I've never gotten a bad grade in school, either. And I was actually quite popular in a way. Most of the other kids admired my racing talent and often challenged me to a race around the school grounds. I almost always beat them. Some were frustrated, some jealous, others impressed. Virtually everyone at school wanted to be my friend at some point, but it was always touch and go. I preferred to hang out with Kate most of the time. She was even more socially awkward than me and had no other real friends. Then after we graduated, any "friends" I had, including Kate, moved away to attend schools in other states while I was left behind in Indianapolis.

"So, this Kate was your girlfriend?" Lawrence says with a smile.

"No, she wasn't my girlfriend," I say. "No way."

"But it sounds like you were very attracted to her."

I smile a bit. "Well, she was a very attractive girl. But we were just friends. We didn't actually have much in common."

"All right. So, what was she like?"

So I begin to tell him. When I first moved to Indianapolis thirteen years ago, the first day of school was the most terrifying of my life to date. I didn't know a single person, and being an out-of-towner with a weird name and something of a foreign accent, I didn't expect to make any friends quickly, if ever. So for the first half-hour, while the other kids settled in, frolicking and talking amongst themselves, I sat quietly at my desk, minding my own business, while secretly hoping my day wouldn't start off with any teasing. But there was an empty desk next to mine, and this Kate McKinley was the last to show up. She actually smiled at me when she parked at her desk, so of course, I smiled back. We didn't talk until lunch, when neither of us ended up having anyone to eat with. So, rather awkwardly, I let her sit with me upon her asking, but we didn't talk for a while. Then she told me up front that I was "cute." I was somewhat offended by this remark, but I think she meant it as a compliment. She also asked me why I talked a little differently. I told her I was from Dallas, Texas. And since Dad and Scott both speak with a vague Texas accent, I picked it up from them, so I have a mix of between a Texas and Midwestern accent, although it tends to lean slightly more toward the former. Since then, it's just kind of stuck.

Kate was also new to town. She'd just moved here from Portland, Oregon, with her mom. She'd never met her dad. I was surprised by this and said my mom left when I was a year old, so I have no memory of her. Regarding names, she asked me what Monty was short for. She was surprised when I said Montgomery (which, admittedly, I often misspelled in those days because the vowels were very confusing). In turn, she said Kate was short for Kathryn, but she liked plain and simple Kate better, and I was cool with that.

And our friendship just grew from there. But it was more than just being outsiders that drew us together. We both had single parents and no siblings. However, unlike me and now Lawrence, she was born out of wedlock; her parents never married. She's the closest one I've ever had to a sister, and she regarded me almost like a brother. And like me, she kept to herself in school, since we didn't really belong in stereotypical groups and certainly not with the cool kids. This concerned our teachers sometimes, but we were fine with only each other's company, and so were our parents. We ate lunch together every day and often partnered up for projects and sports activities. We also helped each other out on homework. I specialized in math and language arts while she helped me with history, social studies, and Spanish (easily my worse subject, although she tried her hardest to teach me).

At home, Kate was never much of a racing fan. She preferred baseball and soccer, the latter of which I enjoyed playing for several years. I often thought of her as my actual girlfriend, but never dared to say so out loud. There was nothing romantic between us. Our relationship was strictly platonic. But did I have a crush on her? Of course I did. She was a very attractive girl. I often found myself imagining marrying her and having kids with her. But I never told her that. I never dreamed of it. Nor did I ever tell anyone else.

But the strangest thing is that even though both our parents were separated and Scott single, nothing ever sparked between them, no matter how hard Kate and I tried. Once, when we were about eleven, we set her mom and my dad up on a blind date, but still no dice. Same with Scott. He was the only guy that Diane—Kate's mom—really trusted. This especially frustrated Kate, who didn't have a particularly good relationship with her, especially later on. I couldn't entirely blame her, but I certainly didn't hate my dad for separating from my mom and not attempting to get remarried, although part of me wished he would. Back then, I wanted nothing more than to have a mom. I think there was a slight infatuation between Diane and Scott, though, since they often flirted with each other when they thought Kate and I weren't looking.

Then toward the end of our senior year of high school, I gathered the courage to ask Kate to the prom. As a friend. None of the other guys had asked her out. To my surprise, she accepted. We had a wonderful time, although we weren't very good dancers. But then a few days later, she told me that she was moving back to Portland. I was completely shocked. But she had to go back because she'd been accepted into university there and her mom wanted to be with her family again. I took the news as best I could, but I was devastated at the thought of letting her go. We agreed to keep in touch, though it would be difficult. We enjoyed our last few weeks together as well as we could, but I dreaded the weekend after graduation, when Kate and Diane left. On that day, me, Scott, and even Dad accompanied them to the airport. Scott and Diane looked genuinely heartbroken to part ways. But I was even more so to say goodbye to my only real friend. It was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do.

And then a very shocking thing happened. For the first time in the eleven years we'd been friends, she kissed me. "I've… been wanting to do that for a long time," she said as we pulled away. Then she left with Diane, and I haven't seen her since. And by the time I started college, I lost touch with her. That was the worst part. I think I've mostly moved on, but I haven't had much luck since, romantically speaking. And since the day she left, I have wondered if she actually loved me, but I will never know.

Lawrence is quite saddened by this story, but insists I'll eventually find another girl. Then he asks me a rather unusual, if not random question: what's become of Dad's parents and why do we live in Indianapolis? To be honest, I haven't thought about them in a long time. They both died right before we moved to Indianapolis. It's one reason why Dad and Scott left. It wasn't exactly a heartbreaking time for me because I don't remember them much, and being only five then, I didn't really understand the concept of death.

We also left Dallas because the city was hit hard by some kind of nationwide financial crisis. Dad and Scott both lost their jobs. They decided to start over somewhere else, but they couldn't afford to live just anywhere, especially after their parents got sick and died. However, they decided to move us to the same city, since they're very close. Indianapolis was the top choice because (a) it's one of the most affordable cities in the country, (b) there was a building boom at the time; ideal for Scott, and (c) it's the racing capital of America. I'd be able to experience racing firsthand. Of course, _that_ wasn't their top priority, but I still think they did this on purpose.

Overall, Lawrence enjoys my story and he tells me about his life. Obviously, it's much more interesting than mine. He has lots of friends and distant relatives he wants me to meet. Mom works at a hotel as a concierge, as she has ever since she and Dad split up. It pays very well, so they like to travel together. They usually stick to the UK, but they've been to Ireland, France, Germany, and several others (yes, I'm jealous). Lawrence has just graduated from the University of Edinburgh with a degree in British history. He finds history overall very fascinating. He works at the National Museum of Scotland, which he recommends I see on my trip. He's also a very skilled violin player after he "failed terribly" attempting to learn the bagpipes. He met Maureen in his second year in university, and he plans to propose to her at Edinburgh Castle sometime in the near future.

"I don't think I'll ever get married," I say once the story's done.

"Why not?" Lawrence asks.

"Because I don't want to end up like Mom and Dad. Especially if I have kids."

"Och, you don't know that. And you're nineteen years old. You've got plenty of time to figure this out."

"Sure, but… Lawrence, how do you know when you've found the right girl?"

He smiles. "You just know, laddie. You just know."

"Is that what happened with Maureen?"

"Yes. One look and I knew."

"Lucky." I scoff. "Love is weird."

"In some ways, yes. You'll find your woman soon enough. You'll see."

I hope he's right. But it's not going to happen anytime soon.

We end up talking about ourselves for nearly the whole flight, and it's hard not to annoy the other passengers around us. We do get quite a few exasperated looks and audible sighs, but I don't care. This conversation cannot wait. Toward the end, we tell each other funny little stories if we can remember them, and talk about our respective parents, too. Lawrence tells me more about our mom in half an hour than Dad's told me in nineteen years. In turn, I tell Lawrence as much as I can about Dad and Scott. But it would take me too long to tell you everything.

Before I know it, five hours have passed and we decide to take a break from talking (which I think the other passengers are grateful for). Lawrence settles down for a nap, but I'm anything besides tired. I have a lot on my mind. Like the punishment I'll receive when Dad and Scott find out that I ran away. Or the disasters that might await me. More than once, I shut my eyes and pretend to be back home where I belong. But every time I open them, I find myself back on the noisy, crowded airplane. When that doesn't work, I try to think optimistically. I'm going to see two international cities with lots of things to do. And I won't have to worry about not knowing the language, even though Lawrence is a bit difficult to understand sometimes. Shouldn't be a problem, though. Besides, I'm ethnically Scottish (on both sides, mixed with some Irish, and my last name is Scottish), and I'll admit I have a bit of a Scottish/Irish temper on me. I'll probably fit right in.

I must've fallen asleep because next thing I know, Lawrence is shaking me awake to look outside. When I spy out the window, I can't believe what I'm seeing and I smile. "Wow. The real Tower Bridge and Big Bentley," I say to myself. I am actually in London, seeing it with my own eyes. I check a clock on my little TV screen. It's shortly after midnight. Not the ideal time to arrive, but at least I have some time to get used to the five-hour time difference. And as long as nothing goes wrong, this day belongs to me.

Lawrence smiles. "Yes, it is. And soon you'll see them even closer," he says.

"I can't wait," I say.

* * *

Before long, the plane lands at London Heathrow and everyone disembarks, including me and Lawrence. As we drive through a very long terminal, I keep glancing outside to look out to the runway, where planes from all over the world are parked and some are landing. The world suddenly feels a bit smaller. Back home, all flights are domestic, except for one or two from Canada, and London, of course. But once we're outside, I stop short. I've forgotten something very important. "Oh, no."

"What is it?" Lawrence asks me.

"I forgot they drive on the left here," I say stupidly, cringing at the busy intersection in front of me.

"Yeah. Sorry, lad," Lawrence says, smiling nervously. "You've practiced at school, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but never in a crowded street," I say. I've been driving on the right my entire life, and the idea of switching sides is ludicrous. Of course, I know how to do it, but that doesn't mean I _want_ to do it. I seriously do not understand the Brits.

"All right. No problem," he says. "I'll lead the way."

I don't have any other choice, so I follow Lawrence's lead. After about a mile, he beckons me to follow him into an underground train station.

"Where are we going?" I ask as I follow him down.

"To Maureen's house in Southgate."

"Okay…. Where's that?"

Lawrence stops to check a map on the wall. Seeing all the different train lines crisscrossing the city makes my brain hurt. I had no idea London was so big… and so easy to get lost in. Nothing I hate more than getting lost.

"Northeast of here," Lawrence says. "Lucky for you, we don't need to change trains and you don't have to drive far. It won't be crowded, either."

"That's a relief," I say half to myself.

We turn the corner into the station. It's mostly empty, but it seems filthy to me, as if it hasn't been cleaned in ages.

"So, let me get this straight," I say a minute later. "You live in Edinburgh, but Maureen lives here?"

"Yes. She moved back in with her parents after graduation." Lawrence sighs dreamily. "Ah, she's a great lass. You'll love her. Her parents are on holiday right now, and she has to work tomorrow, so it'll be just you and me going sightseeing. Then perhaps tomorrow or the day after we can go to Edinburgh and you can see where I live, too."

I shrug. I'm not going to be picky when it comes to plans. "Whatever you say. You know this place better than I do. Just as long as we see Mom. But I can wait a day or two."

"Fair enough," Lawrence says with a smile.

Then the train pulls and we board. It's empty except for four or five other cars. I've never been on an underground train before. There aren't any in Indianapolis, which I think is maybe a quarter the size of London. At home, we drive ourselves.

"Well, it's going to be a while. Wake me up when we're at the end of the line," Lawrence tells me as he closes his eyes.

I don't want to go to sleep here, so I don't try. Besides, I'm still on Indiana time and it's only evening there. I spend the half-hour ride studying a map above the doorway and trying to decide what I want to see tomorrow—I mean, today—and how to get there. Definitely London Eye and Big Bentley, among the other famous sights. The touristy stuff.

The train comes to a stop at the last station and I nudge Lawrence awake. He lets out a huge yawn and I follow him into the station.

"How far is it?" I ask him as we make it back up to ground level.

"Just over a mile. And look. No traffic. I guess an overnight flight isn't such a bad thing for you after all."

"I guess not," I say.

After following some unusually curvy streets (another thing we don't have back home), Lawrence finally pulls up to a small brick townhouse. A young lady I guess is Maureen sees us outside the window and throws the door open.

"Lawrence! What a nice surprise! I wasn't expecting you!" she says and they exchange a quick kiss. Then she turns to look at me. "Uh, Lawrence? Who's your lookalike friend here?" she asks slowly.

"Maureen, this is my younger brother, Lightning," Lawrence answers. "Lightning, this is Maureen."

"Hi," I say. "My real name's Monty, actually, short for Montgomery, but I like Lightning better."

"Hello," Maureen says slowly. She looks just as baffled as I probably did this morning. She looks over both of us several times quizzically and I almost laugh. "Uh, let's go inside," she eventually says.

Lawrence and I follow her into the living room and I park myself next to the TV. I'm expecting an awkward conversation where I'm likely to be ignored, as I often am.

"Lawrence, forgive me if I'm confused, but I'm quite sure you're an only-child," Maureen says.

"Don't feel bad, Maureen," I say. "I thought I was until today, too."

"No, I'm not," Lawrence says as-a-matter-fact. "Did I ever tell you about Lightning?"

Maureen glances at both of us. "I don't think so." She pauses. "Wait. Unless he's adopted, shouldn't your dad be here as well?"

Lawrence smiles nervously. "Eh, well…"

"Lawrence MacIver! You didn't run away with him!"

"Well, I wouldn't call it that," I say, trying not to laugh again. "I'd call it a long-awaited vacation."

"But he will come," Lawrence insists, "eventually…."

Maureen laughs and shakes her head. "You're going to be so sorry you did that. Both of you!" Then she smiles. "Oh, my parents are going to love you, Lightning! You have to meet them while you're here!"

I smile nervously. To think that one day, they're going to be my indirect in-laws! Suddenly, I'm not prepared for this. I know that when the time comes, they'll be part of Lawrence's family—not mine, really—but I'll still want to make a good impression on them. "Yeah. Can't wait."

"Now, I'd love to hear all about you, Lightning, but I imagine you're very tired from the trip," Maureen says after a brief silence.

"Yeah, kinda," I say.

She smiles. "I understand. You can have the spare bedroom upstairs. Second door to the right."

I nod and then see Lawrence make a pouting face. "Not you, mister!" Maureen says teasingly, giving him a slight push. "If you two get in trouble, it'll be your fault! You get the couch!"

"Don't blame me! It was his idea!" Lawrence retorts, pointing at me.

"Um, thank you," I say, laughing. "In that case, good night, Lawrence, Maureen."

"Good night, Lightning," he says as I head upstairs. They're still giggling as I find what I assume is the spare bedroom. Once I'm mostly unpacked, I head straight to bed. It takes a while for me to fall asleep because I have such an exciting day ahead and I can't wait for it to begin.

* * *

 **So, that's chapter 4. I hope y'all liked it. There are a few fun facts I'd like to point out:  
**

 **1\. I have Lightning's dad's family from Dallas because that's where Owen Wilson, Lightning's voice actor, is from. And Lightning seems to have a vague accent in the movies, if you listen carefully. It seems logical to me to have him from Dallas and that he lived there for at least a while. And of course, Indianapolis is famous for racing, and I wanted Lightning to have first-hand experience at it from a young age, especially since in the first movie he says he's been dreaming about winning the Piston Cup his whole life.**

 **2\. The financial crisis Lightning mentions is based on a true event (which I discovered by accident, and it was before my time), but I won't bore you with the details.**

 **3\. McQueen is actually a Scottish name.**

 **So, that's it for now. Hope you stick around for the next chapter, though it'll probably be a while, and it needs some work. Until then, toodles! :)**


	5. Touring London

**Hello, everyone! I'm back! No, I did not abandon the story. But life has kept me really busy the last few months, and I hit a bit of writer's block. I decided I didn't like the last version of this chapter, so I rewrote it. It isn't my favourite chapter, since it's mostly just Lightning and Lawrence touring and talking. So, I hope you won't find it boring or anything. But it's important regarding their bond. And I've made them as different as possible for a reason. You'll find out why later.**

 **So, here's Chapter 5. Please leave a review, and please be nice about them. Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Chapter 5:

Touring London

It's shortly after nine when I wake up the next morning. I'm still exhausted from the flight and the time change. After a pleasant homemade breakfast (which includes a lot of tea, which I rarely drink. I'm more of a coffee guy), we discuss what we should see and when. Maureen has to work, so she won't be joining us. But being a native of London, she knows exactly what our plan should be if we want to make the most of our day, which I certainly do. Lawrence has also visited here many times, so I trust both their opinions.

Lawrence and I leave around ten-thirty. We take the subway toward downtown. I haven't been this excited for anything in a long time. The ride downtown seems to take forever. I wonder if my dad was this excited when he came here almost twenty-five years ago as an exchange student. His family never travelled much, either. He was only a year older than me at the time, and he was longing for adventure outside Dallas, just like me, but from Indianapolis. It's one thing we actually have in common.

"You're awfully giddy this morning, aren't you?" Lawrence asks, smiling from next to me.

"Sorry," I say, a little embarrassed at how antsy I must look. "I just haven't been this excited for anything in like, forever. I've never gone sightseeing in a new city before. I mean, a city I don't live in. And I don't think I've had a birthday this fun since my seventh, when we went to the track. But this is going to be so much better."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Finally, after maybe half an hour, we arrive downtown. I don't remember the name of the station, but it's right in the heart of London. We head up to street level to hit the road when Lawrence says, "Look up."

So I turn look to see none other than Big Bentley right across the road towering above us. "Wow! It's a lot bigger than I thought," I say.

"Aye, it is," Lawrence says as we move closer. "It's ten-fifty-seven. It'll ring in three minutes." We stop about a hundred years closer and continue to stare up at the giant clock tower for the next few minutes until the time shows eleven o'clock and the bells chime eleven times.

"Cool," I say, awed. "I never thought I'd hear it."

"Well, there's a lot more to see and hear. We got a late start, so we better get going. Come on."

"Wait." We stop after about five feet, and I realize I forgot something very important. "Uh-oh."

"What?"

For some reason, I start laughing. "I forgot my camera!"

"You didn't."

"Yes! Seriously! The one time I go sightseeing I forget it!" I sigh. "Typical. Then again, I haven't used one in ages."

Lawrence smiles, also rolling his eyes, and understandably so. "Well, then we'll just have to come back. Come on."

So, without my camera, we continue on our tour. The weather is ideal today; sunny but not hot, and it looks like it won't rain, either. I let Lawrence lead the way, wanting to be surprised as to where he'll take me next. We circle around the Houses of Parliament and stop for a few minutes in front of Westminster Abbey.

"So, what's in there exactly? Is it a church or something?" I ask.

"Yes, but it's also where kings and queens are crowned and there are hundreds of famous Brits buried there," Lawrence says. "You want to go inside?"

"Maybe later," I say. "There's plenty of other stuff I want to see."

"Sure. Let's head across the Thames and see London Eye."

Now I'm grinning from mirror to mirror with excitement. Of all the things to see here, it's the number one thing on my list. We pass by Big Bentley again and cross the Thames by way of Westminster Bridge, which, according to Lawrence, is world famous, but I'm not familiar with it.

"So, how well-taught would you say you are in British history?" Lawrence asks as we begin our drive across the bridge.

"Not at all compared to you," I admit, a little surprised at the question. "I mean, I've read lots of British books and seen lots of movies, but that's about it. I've studied American history, of course, but it wasn't my best subject. I could never keep all the names and dates straight. Kate was much better at it than me."

Lawrence smiles. "Well, I'm the opposite. I'm terrible at math, but I'm well-rehearsed in history."

"Yeah," I say. I should add that to my list of how different we are. Because that list is growing. There are only three things we have in common worthy of note: we look alike, have the same parents, and speak English. Actually, on second thought, I wouldn't completely count that because our accents and dialects are very different. Otherwise, you could say we are polar opposites. And I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that.

Anyway, a few minutes later, we've arrived at London Eye. This, I think, is my favourite part because we get a spectacular view of the whole city from the top. Once the ride's over, we stop for lunch at a little outdoor restaurant down the road. I'm already very tired, (as it's approximately eight o'clock in the morning at home, and I got up at four), but there's still plenty to see.

"You look tired," Lawrence says after we've ordered our lunches. Apparently, sandwiches are a typical British lunch.

"I am," I say. I'm also fighting a headache; the tired kind, but I decide not to tell him that. "But I'm not stopping yet. I might never be able to do this again, and I gotta see as much as I can while I have the chance."

"I understand. How long do you want to stay in London?"

"Don't know yet. Like I said, I can wait a day or two before we meet Mom."

"All right. But I should mention now that I need to be back in Edinburgh by Sunday night because I have to work on Monday. Sorry."

"That's okay. Maybe we can go tomorrow," I say.

"Of course. I'll try to find a late flight so we can see some stuff in the morning if you want. I just figured you'd want to see the highlights at least."

"Yeah, it's great. I like what I've seen so far."

Lawrence smiles and there's a pause.

"I wonder if Dad or Scott are out looking for me," I finally say. They've crossed my mind a few times today, but I'm trying not to think about them or what they're going to do to me when or if they find me.

"I wouldn't doubt it."

"But I have a feeling Scott won't come. He never strays far from home."

"Really? Why?"

"I don't know. He likes staying in his comfort zone. Like I said, he hasn't changed his routine in nearly fifteen years. He's never been a risk-taker. I'm kind of the opposite."

"I can see that," Lawrence says with a smile.

I smile back. "Yeah. I just don't think I want to go back yet. I love it here. And I'm twenty years old now. They can't force me to come home. And there's nothing for me to do at home. I don't have a job, and I don't really want to get one right now. I'll go back when I'm ready, but not yet."

"All right. What about school?"

I pause. I've been thinking about that a lot the last few days. "Well, I've actually considered dropping out. Don't tell anyone, but I've applied for these two racing schools in Florida and California. I'm hoping to get into one of them."

Lawrence looks surprised. "I didn't know there was such a thing."

"Neither did I until a few months ago. But I did my research, and it seems my best bet at becoming a racer. But don't tell anyone, okay? I haven't told Dad or Scott, and I think they're mad enough already."

"All right. Your secret's safe with me."

I smile in thanks. But suddenly, looking at him from face to face, as I have for that past few minutes, and not side by side, is making me, well, a little uncomfortable. It's like I'm looking at my own reflection, or at a Scottish version of myself from a parallel universe. Go back five or ten years and you'd definitely see an age difference between us. Now, though, being older, we could easily pass as twins. I'm getting that weird feeling again when it seems that I'm dreaming, being in London with my long-lost brother… it doesn't feel completely real. And it's not a good feeling.

A minute later, our food arrives, but we don't talk for a while. I think it's safe to say that we've only begun to scratch the surface talking about ourselves, but I'm kind of tired of talking about myself. I'm running out of subjects, and I think I covered about ninety percent of my life story on the plane. But I know for a fact that Lawrence has lots more to tell me. I wish my life was as interesting and fun as his. He's seen a lot of the world, met all kinds of people, has a real girlfriend, and he's got a stable career already laid out. I have none of those.

After we finish eating, while waiting for our cheque, Lawrence suggests we head toward Tower Bridge, which is about two miles east of here, drive back to the north side of the Thames, and circle back west toward Big Bentley again. There's plenty to see along the way, including a place very special to my—our—parents.

Five minutes later, after paying for lunch, we continue our tour. I don't remember everything we pass by, but some of the highlights Lawrence points out to include Waterloo Station, Shakespeare's Globe (which opened less than ten years ago), City Hall, then finally Tower Bridge. It's huge, with red double-decker buses passing us on both sides.

"Well, I'm definitely in London now," I say. "Double-decker buses, Tower Bridge, driving on the wrong side of the road."

"Aye, you are," Lawrence says.

Soon, we've reached the other side, sticking largely to paths by the shore, where we pass by such landmarks as the Tower of London and London Bridge.

"The buildings here look so different than home," I say after we pass London Bridge. "And the street names, too."

"Yes, they are."

"How old are they?"

"Depends. Are you into architecture?"

"Not really, but I've looked through some of Scott's books when I'm bored," I say. "They're kind of interesting, I guess, but I wouldn't do it for a career."

Lawrence smiles, and a minute or two later, we've arrived at the very place where our parents met almost twenty-five years ago: Trafalgear Square. It's a bit larger than I imagined it, and I guess it's pretty romantic spot at night and especially during the holidays. It was on New Year's Eve, for the fireworks show that they met. They literally bumped into each other, and it was love at first sight. After the show, they went out for drinks, exchanged phone numbers, and the rest is history.

"So, this is where it all began," I say to myself.

"Yes, it is," Lawrence says. I almost forgot he was there for a minute. We begin to drive slowly around a large pillar and toward the two fountains in the centre of the square. "You should see it at Christmas. They put up a big tree every year. I was here a few years ago with Mum and Maureen. It was really lovely."

"Nice," I say. "I'd love to see that." I lean against one of the fountains, tired, but enjoying the view. "We should bring them back here."

"Aye, we should," Lawrence says as he parks next to me. "That'd be a reunion to remember."

We don't say anything for a few minutes, watching other cars wander around the square, taking pictures or just looking around.

"How're you doing?" Lawrence eventually asks.

"Tired," I say.

"It's the jet lag."

"Yep."

"So, what else do you want to see?"

"What's close?"

"Buckingham Palace"

"Sure."

After about five minutes, we head toward the palace. We spend about half an hour there, surrounded by scores of tourists and unmoving red guards that look more like statues with eyes than people.

"I could never do that," I say as I stare at one of them, hoping he'll blink or something. "What if he has to sneeze or something?"

"There must be a trick to hiding it," Lawrence says. "I could never do it either. How about an inside tour?"

It's tempting, as I've always wanted to see a castle, but I have to say no. "No, thanks. I can barely keep my eyes open," I say. "Maybe next time. This jet lag is killing me." I don't want to tell him, but I'm also mentally exhausted by all that's happened yesterday, and I still can't piece everything together. Frankly, I still feel kind of awkward standing next to my lookalike.

"All right. I understand," Lawrence says as we turn away from the palace. "You ready to call it a day?"

"What time is it?" I ask.

"I think it's nearing five. Everything will start closin' soon. You want to head back to Maureen's house? She should be on her way home by now."

"Sure. What about dinner?"

"What do you feel like?"

"I don't know. Where do you and Maureen like to go?"

Lawrence pauses, thinking. "There's this French restaurant close to her house that's really good. You ever had French food?"

"I don't know. Not in a long time, at least." I don't come from a family of cooks, let alone a family that has a taste for international cuisine that isn't take-out. We do go to restaurants on occasion, but nothing fancy. Dad and Scott are very cheap when it comes to dining.

"Well, there's a first for everything," Lawrence says. "Oh, and before we go back, you want to stop at a souvenir shop or something?"

I'm suddenly awake again. "Oh, yeah! I almost forgot. Of course. Let's go."

So, we wander around for about fifteen minutes until we find a small souvenir store. For the very first time, I actually get to buy souvenirs for myself. Dad almost always brings me one or two from his trips, but mine are only from places close to home. I end up picking a magnet, a coffee mug, two postcards that I don't intend to mail, a travel guide, a Big Bentley keychain, and a bumper sticker that reads, "Keep Calm and Carry On." The usual stuff. But I can't bring back anything too big, as I don't have much space in my suitcase or my room back home.

"You're not going to wear that are you?" Lawrence asks, referring to the bumper sticker.

I laugh. "Course not! But I might need it next semester, if I go back to school."

"Business school or racing school?"

"Probably both."

Unfortunately, since I have no British money, Lawrence ends up paying for my stuff. I feel the urge to pay him back, but he insists otherwise. They're my own birthday presents, since I don't have any others to take with me. After we leave and head for the subway station, I wonder how I can repay him. I don't like owing to people. But I guess having him meet Dad, whenever that may be, will work for now. After that, well, I'll think of something.

* * *

 **Yeah, I couldn't think of a better ending, but the next chapter will continue right after this. I originally had them together, but I decided it was too long, and it needs a bit more work. I'll probably upload it in the near future,** **but no promises.**

 **Till later! - PixarKatze :)**


	6. Birthday Dinner

**I'm back! Wow, I can't believe it's been almost a year since I last updated. It doesn't feel like that long, but, obviously, a lot has changed since then. Life and school kept me crazy busy after I published my last chapter.  
**

 **Anyway, this one is basically a continuation of the last one, and short, but sad things are going to happen soon.  
**

 **Hope you enjoy, and please review! :)**

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Chapter 6:

Birthday Dinner

We're back at Maureen's house about an hour later. I'm exhausted, but it's too late for a nap. Here, anyway. At home, I would, as my internal clock says it's only one o'clock, and I've been up since four a.m. I'm not used to such a drastic time change and I wish the jet lag would go away.

"So, are you hungry for dinner?" Lawrence asks as he unlocks the door and we enter Maureen's house.

"Not yet," I say. "Maybe an hour?"

"Sure. No rush."

"Okay. I'll be upstairs." Without waiting for him reply, I turn and drag myself up to my "room," shut the door, and crash down on the bed. I'm physically worn out, but my mind is spinning, trying to process all the incredible stuff that's happened today. Yes, sightseeing was really fun, and I'm glad I got to see as much as I did, but this whole family dilemma is so much to take in. I wish I had someone to talk to about this outside my family. But I got nobody. Kate's my best option, but I haven't heard from her in nearly two years. Nonetheless, I think I'll email her again when I get home. And if I get really desperate, I can see myself flying to Portland to find her. She probably still lives there.

I guess I doze off, because I'm not sure how much time passes before Maureen returns home and I'm pulled from my nap. I hear them talk briefly downstairs, but I can't make out their words.

"Lightning! You ready to head out?" Lawrence calls a minute later.

"Yeah, coming," I reply. I slowly rise from the bed, uncertain if I want to face my lookalike again. I almost fall down the stairs on my way down upon seeing him, but force myself to smile. I'm never going to get used to this.

* * *

The restaurant is only a few blocks away, so it takes us about ten minutes to get there. Maureen's opted out, so it's just me and Lawrence again. We're there for about an hour and a half, enjoying our exotic French crêpes. Real European food. We don't talk much. There's not much left to talk about, though every time I think we've run out of topics, we always seem to find another one. Afterwards, Lawrence insists I have a drink to celebrate.

"Am I old enough to drink here?" I ask.

"Plenty," he says. "When you're eighteen."

I roll my eyes. "Great. I should've come here two years ago."

He laughs, and when our waiter comes over, he requests two shots of Scottish whiskey.

"You look like you could use one," he says, smiling. "So, how'd you like your day?"

"It was great," I say, and I mean it. "Honestly, I haven't had this much fun in years. I got to see a lot of stuff I've always wanted to see. Too bad I forgot the camera."

Lawrence nods. "Yeah. But?"

"But what?"

"Something's still bothering you."

I pause. "It's just all… this… came totally out of the blue. I had no idea you existed until, like… twenty-nine hours ago."

"Yeah, don't think I didn't notice how surprised you were."

I smile a little too innocently. I must've looked like I'd seen a ghost. "I don't know how else I could've reacted without attracting attention. You didn't recognize me right away, did you?"

"Well, yes and no. You're a lot older than when I last saw you, obviously. But I figured I'd know you when I saw you."

That thought makes me a little uncomfortable, but I smile anyway.

"I mean, I think I very vaguely remember you," he continues, "and I did ask Mum about you a few times over the years. But when I did, she'd always change the subject."

"Dad and Scott do the same thing," I say with a sigh. "But they never mentioned you by name. Not that I remember, anyway."

"So, it's quite the shock.

"Mmm-hmm. That's an understatement." There's an awkward silence, and then I ask: "So, do you think they'll get back together?"

"I don't know," Lawrence says. "They haven't seen each other in almost twenty years. Do you think Dad's on his way yet?"

"Probably. He might be on your doorstep right now. Or he will be soon."

An anxious look crosses his face. "Now that I think about it, I'm not sure I'm ready to meet him."

"Well, I'm not sure I'm ready to meet Mom, either," I say, looking down at the table.

"Aye. I've spent months trying to prepare myself, but now that it's almost here, and you're here, it doesn't feel entirely real."

 _You're telling me?_ I think, but decide not to say it out loud. "Same here." I pause. "What was it like for you? Growing up without a dad?"

"Not always easy," Lawrence says. "I mean, Mum and I are very close, but… I always hated not having a father. I never understood why they broke up."

"Me neither. So… you didn't really have anyone to turn to when you had, you know, guy problems?" I ask.

"No."

"Eesh. You and Mom must've had some pretty awkward conversations over the years."

"Yes, we have."

I struggle not to laugh. "Well, in all fairness, I always hated not having a mom. I missed her a lot, especially when Dad and Scott are working so much I become invisible. Which I think is weird because I don't even remember her."

He shrugs. "It's only natural. I don't really remember Dad, and I miss him a lot."

"Hmm. That reminds me, you never told me how you got away with crossing the Atlantic to find me."

"Ah, yes. Well, I told Mum and Maureen I was visiting a college friend in Ohio, which is true. And it's on the way to Indiana, of course, so it wasn't much of a detour. I was just expecting to stay a bit longer, maybe see Dad. Guess I'll have to go back."

"Guess so." I feel a twinge of guilt over that, but choose to ignore it.

At that moment, our waiter arrives with our drinks, and once he's left, Lawrence and I raise our glasses for a toast.

"To you, Lightning," Lawrence says with a smile. "Happy twentieth birthday."

"Thanks," I say. "And to a long-awaited family reunion." And we clink our glasses. I take a sip of my whiskey… and it's very strong, and very bitter. I can't help making a face when I drink it.

"You don't like it?" he asks as I struggle to swallow it.

"It's… interesting," I say finally. I've never had whiskey before, but I do kind of like it, especially after my big day.

He smiles. "I'll take that as a yes."

* * *

It's nearly ten when we get back. If Lawrence hadn't been with me, I probably would've gotten lost. He practically has to drag me to Maureen's. I'm so tired and a bit disoriented, though not drunk. At least, I don't think so. Still, it really was a good day. I hope tomorrow will be just as good. It all depends on how our family reunion will go. That thought makes me a little queasy, though. I'm not sure I'm ready for it, regardless of what will happen.

Once we're back and we've said our good nights, I head upstairs to my room, relieved to have some solitude. But tired as I am, two hours later, I'm still wide awake. There's too much on my mind to sleep, and the jet lag doesn't help, either. I try to read from a book I brought, but give up after three pages because I can't concentrate on it. I can't stop thinking about Lawrence, what's happened since yesterday morning, how I'm going to face Dad and Scott again, and about a million other things.

At the same time, though, as surprising as it must sound, I'm feeling a bit homesick. Part of me wants things to go back to the way they were before Lawrence showed up at my front door. I tell myself it's stupid, because I've waited a long time to be on my own for once, and outside of Indiana. And I'm so nervous to meet my mother tomorrow. I know I shouldn't be, but I can't help it. We haven't seen or spoken to each other in nearly nineteen years. She probably won't even recognize me. Then again, if Lawrence and I are together, she probably won't be able to tell us apart.

I find myself wishing I could talk to Kate again. She's probably the only person in the world I can completely trust. There were no big secrets between us, and she was a good listener. I'll try to write her again when I get home, whenever that may be.

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 **So, I really wanted to delve into Lightning's mental/emotional state at this point. It's one reason I've written the story from his point of view. Not sure when I'll have the next chapter up, but in the meantime, please review. :)  
**


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